


Sharp

by ianavi



Series: I have your permission? [2]
Category: Original Work, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU - First Meeting at a Conference, AU - John is a scientist, AU - Sherlock is a scientist, Dom!Sherlock, Light BDSM, M/M, Oral Sex, POV John Watson, Praise Kink, Sub!John, What Plot/Porn Without Plot, foot job
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:36:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4305336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ianavi/pseuds/ianavi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sharp. John sat back on the black leather chesterfield and watched the sharp, well-attired man, bespoke suit and exquisite dark curls, sharply cut down an attempt by a group of colleagues to engage him in conversation. John dragged one finger along the edge of his wine glass and allowed himself to keep watching from a distance.</p><p>---</p><p>John's POV of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4298124">Scruffy</a>. Just a simple exercise in a/symmetry. Fun for me and hopefully for you, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharp

Sharp. John sat back on the black leather chesterfield and watched the sharp, well-attired man, bespoke suit and exquisite dark curls, sharply cut down an attempt by a group of colleagues to engage him in conversation. John dragged one finger along the edge of his wine glass and allowed himself to keep watching from a distance.

He knew the man was Dr. Holmes, had read his articles in Accounts of Chemical Research and other journals, had seen one of his interviews online. A sharp mind, and now seeing him in person, absolutely gorgeous face and body, formidable bearing.

This conference was typical, a mix of interesting discussions and tepid talks by academics who didn't really want to be there but took it in stride and looked forward to the bar. He wasn't giving a paper this time and could relax. And people watch. Well, gaze at one person.

Feeling a bit foolish, he was thinking of getting another drink and walking over to say hello to some French colleagues when he saw Dr. Holmes make a beeline towards him. John froze.

Completely unaware of him the man sat down with a huff, grimaced into his barely touched glass of whiskey and set it on the side table. He then smoothed out the front of his gray suit jacket, crossed his long legs and sat back.

John felt his heart pound. He couldn't take his eyes off the slender ankle and black leather oxford. He imagined what it would feel like to be allowed to kneel at those feet. Oh, fuck. He closed his eyes for a moment wondering if his semi-erection would be visible to all if he attempted to walk away.

He could fucking smell him, expensive perfume and whiskey and man.

"Your jacket matches the couch."

He blinked his eyes a few times and then stared back like an idiot. To have the attention of those sharp cerulean eyes on him. Tracing down his neck, chest, crotch. Fuck.

One long finger reached for him and John followed its path.

"The leather. It's an almost perfect match, color, texture of creases." 

The finger connected with his bicep and pressed. John gasped loudly. Fully and obviously erect now. He felt at once dizzy and determined to act. To be allowed to touch that pale skin, kiss that long neck... Please...

"I'm John. Watson. Imperial College London. I... I look forward to your talk tomorrow, Dr. Holmes."

So John took a calming breath, smiled his best smile and extended one shaky hand for a handshake. 

As he accidentally, but what a pleasant accident, brushed the side of his hand against the man's leg he felt a vice-like grip trap his wrist.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" In a deep but warning tone.

He was an idiot. And to make it more embarrassing he felt his cheeks burn. The man must feel nothing but contempt for him now.

"I... I apologize." He barely managed looking at the floor. For the longest moment there was only the noise of the room and the almost painful touch of that strong hand. He swallowed suppressing a wave of pleasure at the brief pain.

Deep voice. "No, no need for you to apologize. You had given me no permission to touch you and yet I did. I am sorry about the misunderstanding, it was not my intention to initiate."

It was out in the open. He couldn't humiliate himself more than he already had. "You can..."

"Excuse me?"

John looked up, blinked a few times and spoke barely audibly. "You have my permission Dr. Holmes."

At that the man got up and left without looking back.

John sat in his room fighting a rising urge to debase himself fully and publicly. It had been so long. Years of polite dates that led to polite sex and polite goodbyes. The last time he asked, begged, he was turned down, called a pervert, slapped. That slap had made him more aroused than all the sex he had had with that woman.

He thought about those long legs, large feet, solid men's shoes. And absolute competence.

John rubbed at his eyes. Fuck.

He took slow steady steps down the long hotel corridor. Just as he was about to knock on the door, he felt an overwhelming, desperate compulsion to offer himself. He fell to his knees, head bowed, and knocked. He took several shaky breaths before the door finally opened.

And without a word the man slammed it in his face.

With no memory of how he made it back to his own room John lay on the bed fully clothed and closed his eyes. His breathing was uneven and his mind a mess. Exhausted, he fell into a feverish sleep.

He woke up early, determined to leave yesterday's foolishness behind and have a good time. After a quick shower he was down for a large breakfast and a pot of tea as soon as the restaurant opened.

John Watson was a determined man. Successful in his research, well respected in the academic community, an easy collaborator, loved by his PhDs. 

During his university days he discovered a proclivity he rarely had a chance to satisfy. Well, no sense in being melancholy. He should look up some colleagues and then back to the lab on Monday.

It was a good day. In the morning session Dr. Holmes was brilliant, commanding the attention of the whole room and shooting down a pointless comment with little tact. John smiled thinking of the high probability the fantasy of that tone addressing him would inspire months of masturbation sessions to come.

Lunch with the French led to him missing the first afternoon session but the long meeting opened up a possibility for a joint research funding application. Then two sessions, one just ok, the other dreadfully uninteresting.

Just when he was sure the man must have left the conference, he reappeared. Sitting across from him at the dinner table Dr. Stamford dragged him to.

John spoke about his work. He'd glance at Dr. Holmes once in a while but never addressed him, hoping the man might join the conversation.

He never did. In fact he seemed bored.

Dr. Holmes got up to leave. Buttoning up his suit jacket with steady hands he looked straight at John, piercing him with a very demanding gaze, and nodded once.

Fuck.

He excused himself and returned to his room. His legs were shaking and he sat on the edge of his bed. All right, one chance. He took a shower and redressed in fresh clothes. Just before leaving the room he fetched a couple of condoms and packets of lubricant from the bathroom and pushed them into his jacket pocket. If he was mistaken about Dr. Holmes' nature perhaps there was at least some casual sex in it for the two of them.

The anticipation. This was something he'd always enjoyed. He took a deep breath and left his room.

Taking a moment to calm himself he rolled his shoulders back and knocked on the door.

When it opened the two man looked at each other. Then with clear invitation John braced his hands behind his back and lowered his head. He waited, heart pounding, staring at the most beautiful pair of naked feet he'd ever seen. Oh, fuck.

"I have your permission?"

Yes, yes, fuck yes.

"You may speak."

He spoke easily. "Yes, you have my permission."

"Come in."

John walked past him into the room. He stood by the bed, noticing how the bedspread was pulled down and a towel was left on the mattress. His mind supplied an image of himself prostrate on Dr. Holmes' bed and he shivered.

An exceptionally deep sensual voice. "You are to follow every command, speak only when given permission. The exception is if you want something to stop. You will use the word 'stop' and I'll cease immediately. Understood?"

His mouth went dry. The final confirmation. There was no misunderstanding.

"You may answer."

"Yes, understood."

Dr. Holmes moved to sit in the low armchair.

"Turn to face me. And take everything off, leave the clothes on the bed."

John complied slowly. Jacket, shirt. Sometimes a partner would flinch when his scars appeared, but not this time. Shoes, socks, neatly set by the bed. His hands were shaking slightly and he was fully hard already. Trousers and pants.

Putting himself on display like this for a sophisticated, dressed man sitting back in a plush armchair, long lean legs crossed at the knee. This was already a most intimate fantasy come true.

One elegant naked foot was tapping the carpet slowly as Dr. Holmes took his time.

"Come here."

John took three steps and stopped in front of the armchair.

He felt ready to give up everything to this man. The need was overwhelmingly strong. He took deep breaths.

"You'll never again kneel before me without explicit order, is that clear? You may nod if you understand and agree."

John nodded.

Please, please...

"Kneel for me, John."

Feeling a rush John sank slowly, one leg folding after the other, hands on thighs, head down. It had been so long, far too long.

"Here, drink a bit."

He was offered some water and he drank as ordered. Already fighting his body, too aroused to easily keep still. He tried a few slow calming breaths. Oh, fuck, he could smell him.

Dr. Holmes leaned towards him and John's heart skipped.

"I will touch you now."

He almost moaned.

The weight of one large warm hand on the nape of his neck. Solid, present. A promise. This, just this. John felt himself sink into an incredible calm, at once present in the moment and floating out of the constraints of his needy body.

He lost track of time. And it did not matter. He wanted to stay like this forever. Held, wanted.

Once in a while the hand grasped his neck giving him further reassurance.

"You're doing so well." The deep voice whispered and John sighed softly at the praise.

This was perfect.

He felt the hand slowly slide to touch one cheek, then his head was lifted.

He felt warm soft lips touch his and was lost. Please...

"Keep your head there for me."

John tried his best, his body swaying slightly. The one point of contact, the hand on his cheek, reassurance. He felt held, and he felt free.

John, breathing through his mouth, swaying slightly, leaned into the hand.

"So beautiful for me." He felt warmth spread over his skin. He was beautiful for Dr. Holmes. Oh, how he longed to be beautiful and good for Dr. Holmes.

A thumb brushed his lips and he fought back the desire to touch it with his tongue, suck it into his mouth. The fingertip slid over the sensitive skin teasingly.

He will stay good for Dr. Holmes, he will.

As he tasted the salty skin of the fingertip and immediately shook with a full body shiver.

"Are you uncomfortable?"

It took a moment to understand he was prompted to respond. John shook his head.

And felt himself slowly fall. 

It took him a moment to understand, to understand the bearing of his own body, a body that was less and less his own. Sitting sideways with his legs folded under him he was enveloped by Dr. Holmes' strong thighs, his face pushed against damp wool, sweat and salt, and a very prominent, hard cock. John almost choked. 

"Settle down for me now."

Every inhale, every twitch of flesh, the solid presence of that thumb on his tongue, fingers in his hair. He wanted to be crushed by those thighs, touched everywhere by those fingers, owned by that cock. Oh, fuck...

"Very good." Lost in pleasure John felt a loud moan escape him. He panicked. Would he be punished for using his voice? Or worse, would he be sent away?

"Settle. You are doing well. I am enjoying this very much. And you are allowed to enjoy it."

He was doing well for Dr. Holmes. Small scratches at the back of his head and neck had John sink back into that wonderful feeling of being good, wanted.

"Comfortable?"

John nodded.

They stayed like this for a while. He was touched everywhere, his skin warm under gentle hands. To be touched, owned...

"So good for me. Wonderful."

A painful pinch of one of his nipples shook his body like electrical current. Involuntarily John opened his eyes to meet a lustful gaze and open lips of the gorgeous man who held him. He almost ejaculated on the spot.

John, eyelids dropping, fell back into that lap trying to steady his breathing.

Another brutal pinch and John bit his lip to keep silent.

"Let me hear you."

Pinched nipple, scratched skin, pulled chest hair. John was openly moaning, his thick red cock twitching against his stomach.

His lips pressed into the fabric covered cock and he felt like begging. To be allowed to please, to pleasure, to be used...

"Wonderful, just wonderful."

A strong hand slid down John's stomach, wrapped its fingers at the base of his cock. Not yet, please, more, please...

Sensitive hairs there were brutally pulled and searing pain ripped through him.

John screamed.

He was now openly moaning, being manhandled into position by sure hands.

He tasted bitter-salty hot skin and whimpered with need.

"Suck now."

With broken moans John sunk down on a long cock.

"Perfect, so perfect."

He hungrily licked, sucked and swallowed wanting to truly make this perfect, to really be good for Dr. Holmes. The taste, the hotness of the silky skin on his tongue.

And then he felt cool skin step onto his painfully hard cock.

John choked eyes fluttering open to face pale skin and dark curls.

"You may cum as soon as I do, John."

Hot, thick semen filled his mouth and John was lost, rubbing himself like a horny animal against a smooth arch and ejaculating over that foot with deprived whines.

He lost track of time again. All tension leaving his body, he felt elated, happy, so happy. Still held in the lap of that amazing man. Two hands never leaving him, rubbing soothing circles into his skin, hair.

Offered another drink of water and then coaxed slowly onto his feet, John was supported by strong arms.

"Come, let's lay on the bed."

John was laid down with care, enveloped in soft sheets and a perfect embrace. He felt a kiss mark the top of his head. He felt wanted, owned.

"My scruffy, perfect boy. I'm keeping you."

John felt cherished.

Waking with a start he was disoriented for a moment. He moved to sit and in the pale light of the early morning he looked over the tall lean beautiful man lying next to him.

A residue feeling of pleasure and comfort washed over him. A longing. And he panicked.

Although the last day of the conference presented two more sessions, he packed his things and left for the train station immediately.


End file.
